The story of T'J'Bang
by mrfstr
Summary: the first chaptr of my first fanfic. follows comic continuity. an orgin of T'J'Bang, who recently returned in the Devils Due book. Feel fre to R&R... WIP


Disclaimer: I don't own GI Joe or any of the characters. Hasbro does. Well, I own a whole bunch of plastic representations of the characters, but not the actual characters them selves. (  
  
My first fan-fic. Hope you enjoy. I know it's ninja's, which a lot of Joe fans feel watered down the line and were turned off by them, but I really liked the character of T'J'Bang...  
  
. . . .   
  
"Terrance James!!!" his father yelled out. The visitor had been here for over a half an hour, and Terrance still had yet to come downstairs to meet him. Sir Laurence James looked across at his old friend.  
  
"I want to thank you, again, for coming here. It means so much to me."  
  
"Laurence-san, the honor is all mine. You have kept these in very good condition."  
  
Laurence looked down at the different blades arranged on the table in the sitting room. The blades must have been 15 years old, but they looked as though they may have just been forged.  
  
"Onihashi, I know that these are not weapons to you... they are works of art. I have treated them as nothing less."  
  
Terrance made his way down the stairs, through the great hall of James Manor and into the sitting room. There he saw his father sitting next to the fireplace, a large grin on his face. Terrance could not remember ever seeing his father with a smile quite like that. Across from his father was a tiny Japanese man. With no hair on his head, the man looked quite amusing sitting on the floor in front of a coffee table wearing just a robe. Terrance had never seen quite a man like this. Sipping from his tea, the man looked over at Terrance. The sparkle in his eye and sly grin intrigued Terrance.  
  
"Master Terrance-san. It is a pleasure to meet you," the old man said as he stood up.  
  
"Terrance, mind your manners. Introduce yourself." Sir Laurence chided his only child.  
  
"Greetings, sir. It is a pleasure to meet you, too, sir." Terrance stammered out.  
  
Laurence motioned for his son to join him. After sitting, his father started a story that Terrance would never forget. . . . .  
  
. . . . . . .  
  
"It was a long time ago. I was a young man just out of university,. I had worked my way up in Her Majesty's Service. In Japan, I was... well, I was doing some things I was told I could never tell another soul..."  
  
Sir Laurence remembered the smell, the feel of the Japanese wilderness. While running reconnaissance, he found himself on the business end of a Japanese soldiers bayonet. The Japanese Special Forces soldiers had come in as though a specter with no indication that they were near.  
  
Onihashi had come across the soldier laid out in a field. The swordsmith was returning from a meeting with the heads of the Arashikage clan.. The trail of blood was at least 15 meters long. The Englishman lay there with his intestines hanging out. The cold, ashen skin indicated the soldier was near death. Onihashi had an assistant bundle the man up in a cloth they had used to carry the swords of the Arashikage. The man's innards fell away as they picked him up, and Onihashi knew the man would be lucky to survive the trip to his home, much less survive at all. The assistant managed to get the soldiers guts to stay within his body, and the remaining 4 miles of the trek home resumed.  
  
The soldier awoke with a start. He was laying in a warm bath and a Japanese man seemed to be rubbing some kind of goo on his abdomen.  
  
"Do not move, young man. You have had a most trying time and you must relax and let the natural course of healing guide you."  
  
"...whe... w... where... where... am I...?"  
  
"...you must not speak if it is a labor on you."  
  
"...what ha... happened... to... me."  
  
Onihashi told the soldier of finding him, of stitching up his wounds. He spoke to the man of the months the man has been comatose. Tales of Onihashi and his assistants bathing the soldier, cleaning his wounds. The man had been unconscious for nearly 5 months. Onihashi let the man rest another few weeks as the man fell in and out of consciousness.  
  
One night, the soldier felt well enough to stand up. He moved to the restroom. When he got there, he looked at the unfamiliar face staring back. The face had long, gnarled hair and a large, bushy beard. Looking around in the dead of night, while everyone else slept, the soldier retrieved a small dagger and proceeded to attack his hair until the mange was gone. Next he moved to his beard, hacking it down until he could use the blades razor edge to shave himself clean. Exiting the room, he saw the elderly Japanese man who had been his caretaker.  
  
"Answer me, young man, why does the English military send a lone soldier out so far alone?"  
  
"Sir, I appreciate all that you have done for me. Would it be possible to take me back to the site that you found me?" the soldier asked, completely ignoring the elder man's question.  
  
"I would never bring dishonor to another man. You choose to ignore my question, but do not ignore me."  
  
"I'm sorry, sir. I am Agent Laurence James in Her Majesty's Service. That is all I can tell you. After all you have done for me, the only thing I can ask is to be returned to where you found me."  
  
Onihashi pondered the man's request.  
  
"Come and have tea with me, Agent Laurence James. It has been a long time since I have had contact with the world outside, and I would like to enjoy your company for a few moments more.  
  
"Please, sir. I mean no disrespect, but I am anxious to return to the service I have been entrusted with."  
  
"We will not discuss trivial matters. There are several things I must tell you before you return to your mission."  
  
The soldier sat down and listened to the wizened man. What he had been briefed with from the SAS paled in comparison with what this man knew of the region. Thinking back to the meeting he had shortly before departing for this mission. He had met with a brash American. "Cowboy" he thought of the man instantly, this Joseph Colton. When the man named Onihashi finished speaking, Agent James knew what he had to do.  
  
"Where are my belongings? My clothes... my weapons."  
  
"You wore little clothes. We found no weapons. I believe they must have been taken from you.." Onihashi walked over to a cabinet and pulled out several sheaths. He slung them over the soldiers shoulder. "I have recently finished crafting these swords for the clan which I am the craftsman for. I am entrusting these to you,. Use them wisely, and they will guide your path. These are not weapons of war, but rather they are tools."  
  
Shortly, the soldier thanked Onihashi, and left. . . . . . . . . . .. .  
  
  
  
.. . ..  
  
. .  
  
Terrance James was enthralled with his fathers story. The smiling Onihashi nodded along, adding little to the conversation. When Sir Laurence finished his tale, he looked deeply into his son's eyes. "Terrance, master Onihashi will be staying with us this summer. I have summoned him here so he may work on a set of blades for you.  
  
That summer, Onihashi and Terrance James grew incredibly close. Terrance followed Onihashi everywhere he went, eventually dressing like the swordsmith. Most summer days, Terrance could be found at the makeshift swordsmith-ing area Onihashi had set up near the pond in the southeast corner of the James estate. That was the best summer of Terrance James' 12- year life until the late August day that the SAS agents came to the door. Onihashi spoke to the guards. Men with guns, very large semi-automatic guns that Terrance saw in the movies.  
  
"Master Onihashi, I want to leave. I don't want to be here. Where's my dad... where's my mom? . .. .. ... . . .  
  
. . . .. . . . . . . . .  
"...T'J'Bang, you and Jinx will cover the rear. If our informant was right, this is a Cobra training facility and we can catch these guys before they become full fledged snakes!"  
  
T'J'Bang awoke from the memory that had slithered into his mind. He looked over at Flint, who had been going over the mission briefing. Everyone knew what they were to be doing. They had studied the mission paperwork en route and could recite one another's exact placement and course of action. T'J'Bang and Jinx were to be containment, ensuring that none could escape.  
  
T'J'Bang let the memory subside so that he could focus on the mission. There were times when his vow of silence hindered him, and he knew it. He could speak, it was not as if something happened that took his voice naturally. Some days he yearned to speak loudly, to let loose some primal battle cry as he prepares to engage in battle. He longs to approach someone and tell her how beautiful she is. However, his honor, the one thing T'J'Bang cherishes most, is what keeps him from embracing desire.  
  
T'J'Bang looks forward and sees the warehouse on the horizon. It is almost time for his mission to begin. He looks inward, honing the blade of his mind before wielding the blade of his sword. Glancing over at Jinx, he sees his cousin has also entered into a warrior's trance. The other Joe's in the APC are gearing up their own way. Gung Ho and Rock N Roll slapping one another across the back, harder and harder in some macho ritual to get their adrenaline flowing. Tunnel Rat stares off into space. Not a warrior's trance, but the look of anxiousness. T'J'Bang knows that Tunnel Rat embraces all his fears before going into action so that he can work them all out before the mission starts. Flint is gazing at the troops under his command, mentally visualizing exactly how everything will go down. Flint rarely is wrong, almost always ready for any kind of mistake or unexpected surprise.  
  
The warehouse is closer now, and the order is given for everyone to have their gear ready to disembark in the next 30 seconds. 


End file.
